


love in a dangerous time

by lethandralis



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Casual Intimacy, Committed Relationship, Domesticity, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Slow Burn, acts of service, bl3 spoilers up through main game chapter 11, freak out to your much more capable best friend about it?, how to tell your boyfriend you love him: make him coffee, make out with him, mentions of rhysha, rated teen and up for swearing and Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-20
Updated: 2019-10-08
Packaged: 2020-10-24 19:48:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20711558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lethandralis/pseuds/lethandralis
Summary: seven years has elapsed. it has been a long, hard, amazing, awful seven years, and it has been seven yearstoo long. it's time to fix that.





	1. reunion

Rhys finds Sanctuary III to be a pleasant respite from living in a skyscraper that’s constantly being bombed. Sure, it’s in space, and Rhys is not fond of being so high up, but it’s not actively under attack, and the food is decent, and the bar plays soft piano music that soothes his nerves.

Oh, and his best friend is going to there.

That’s great.

Lilith had called them both up here to ask for help - Crimson Raiders business, she'd said, and Rhys had been eager to do almost anything other than fighting off Maliwan and having panic attacks in his office. Even if _something else_ is flying around trying to dig up old alien artifacts and not get shot.

Vaughn had come up to the ship after Rhys, once they’d swung back around from Promethea to Pandora after the whole mess with Maliwan. He hadn't known Vaughn was coming too until Lilith had set the coordinates. It gave Rhys enough time to get nervous, to rehearse what he was going to say, and to fantasize about how well it would go.

(Not as if he'd been wondering about how they'd reunite for the past seven years or so. Not at all.)

Vaughn fast-travels up to the ship and is met with Rhys standing at the other end of the room, fussing with the hem of his shirt. It’s a lot to handle at once – Vaughn is _alive_ and _here_ and also not wearing a shirt, interestingly. But mostly he is alive, intact, on two legs and looking at him with his clear, green eyes. He looks beat-down by the desert sun in a pleasant way, freckles dusting the bridge of his nose and his shoulders. He's different except for the fact that he isn't at all.

“Hi!” says Rhys, grinning. Vaughn nods at him as the last of his feet digistruct in, looking lost. He's got a dusty, tattered pack over one shoulder.

“Holy shit dude, I’m _so glad_ you’re here,” continues Rhys, entirely oblivious, striding over. His heart keeps jack-hammering away at the inside of his ribs.

Vaughn squares his jaw. “What are you doing here?” His tone is cool and controlled. Deliberately un-friendly.

Rhys stops in his tracks, ten feet away from Vaughn. “Uh. So. The entire galaxy is burning, apparently, and Atlas is _kinda-sorta_ involved in some vault key stuff, and in exchange for these folks helping me not die in a Maliwan invasion, I’m helping them. Do vault stuff. Or something.” He rubs at the back of his neck with his right hand. “It’s been a long, uh, month.”

“No,” Vaughn shakes his head. “Why are you _here_.” He points one finger at the floor.

Rhys stammers for a moment. “Because you’re my best friend? Because I love you?”

Vaughn’s shoulders tense. He sets his pack down. “Really? Because _seven years_ says that’s not the case.”

Rhys draws in a big breath and lets it out through his nose. _Shit, okay, here we go_. “Okay, I. Yeah. That was a thing. And I’m sorry. But you’re here now! We can start again, just like old times.” His voice is wobbly, unstable.

“You’re _sorry_? You fuck off to a distant planet for _seven years_ without so much as a goodbye and you’re _sorry_? Amazing, Rhys. Incredible. It must be hard to live with your head so far up your own ass.” Vaughn folds his arms in front of his chest, furrowing his brows, a pose that Rhys remembers liking very much except when it's directed at him.

Rhys balks. “I had work to do!” He’s going before he’s even realizing what’s happening, the vision of a romantic reunion in his head dissolving into ashes. “I was gonna fix stuff! And I was always going to come back for you.”

Vaughn scoffs at him, all acid. “I’d _love_ to see your to-do list, man. _Build horrifying guns_, _live in my own little dream world_, _maybe eventually go tell my best friend I’m not dead_?”

“You’re not here to belittle me.” He’s pouting, almost, like a little kid.

“Then why are you here talking to me? Thought you could just sweep me off my feet and act like nothing ever happened?" Vaughn's tone drops. He looks away. "I waited for you the entire time.”

“Why didn’t you contact me?”

Vaughn gestures like Rhys has just made the most ridiculous comment he’s ever heard. “How the _hell_ am I supposed to contact you? I’m an asshole living in the desert on Pandora, and you’re _a fucking CEO_!”

“You could try.” Rhys folds his arms across his chest.

Vaughn points a finger at Rhys, accusatory. “Don’t you pin this on me, Rhys.”

“It takes two to tango, Vaughn.”

“Really? _I’m_ not the one who hopped on the first flight to Promethea after the vault without so much as a goodbye!”

“You knew what I had to do!” Rhys’ voice cracks.

Vaughn puts a hand up. He’s ten feet away from Rhys and yet he can hear his breathing, ragged and unsteady. “You remember when we were young? And you told me we were gonna be forever? No matter what, you told me. It was gonna be you and me.”

Rhys nods. The line of his shoulders is tense. His eyes feel a little wetter than they ought to.

“I believed you! Stupid me, I fucking believed you. And that first time you left, after Helios, I really thought you’d died. I thought that was it, man! I mourned for you and everything. But you _came back_, and for a little while it was great.”

Rhys frowns, gesturing for Vaughn to continue. His thoughts dart back to that long, terrible year spent putting himself back together and convincing himself that his best friend had died for a good cause. His blood runs cold.

“And then it wasn’t. You were gone again just like that. I didn’t know what to think anymore. Maybe you’d died? Or maybe you’d just forgotten about me. Maybe it had all been fake. Friends with benefits, maybe.”

“I’m sorry,” starts Rhys, but Vaughn cuts him off.

“Stop fucking saying you’re sorry!” he shouts, loud and sharp enough that someone else on the ship could probably hear him.

“What else do you want me to do, man?”

“Prove it to me!” His voice sounds tight but he’s shouting around it anyway. “One way or another, prove it was real or it was fake. I can’t keep living in this in-between, man. You can’t keep tossing me around.”

Rhys’ lower lip wobbles, but he steels himself. A threatening knot develops in his throat.

“I wanted you so bad," he admits. "Man, I didn’t even know what to do about it. I missed you every day. Everyone I work with knows about you.” He releases his arms from his chest and they flop down uselessly. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

“So you didn’t do anything about it?” Vaughn says, entirely unimpressed.

“I didn’t know where to start!” Rhys walks up into his personal space. “I didn’t know what you were doing, or where you would even be on Pandora.”

Rhys keeps talking, making excuses. He's so caught up in himself that he doesn't realize Vaughn isn't paying attention anymore. Vaughn isn't even looking him in the eye.

He's startled out of his self-loathing reverie when Vaughn punches him in the jaw. He misses slightly, actually, because Rhys is still talking and gets him in the cheek. Rhys reels backwards, clutching his face.

“Hey, _ow!_ What the fuck?” His face throbs in time with his pulse.

“I don’t want to hear your sob-story, Rhys. Don’t bullshit me.” Vaughn pitches his voice deeper, widening his stance. He looks intimidating, which throws Rhys off. He's not afraid of Vaughn, he doesn't think.

Rhys is silent for a minute, stretching out the tendons in his jaw. It doesn't feel like anything is broken, but it's probably going to bruise. Vaughn folds his arms and cocks his head to one side. _I’m waiting, asshole_, he says without speaking.

“I was afraid you wouldn’t want me anymore,” Rhys finally spits out. He’s speaking barely loud enough to be heard. Vaughn finally looks him in the eye again. He gestures for Rhys to elaborate.

“Man, we went through a lot of stuff together, you know? And a lot of it was bad, and also my fault. And I figured… shit, maybe this is his opportunity to do something else. Apart from me.” He gestures at the table in the middle of the room. “Sit.” Vaughn complies. Rhys sinks down in the seat across from him, grimacing as his knees crack.

“If I’d wanted to leave, I would have,” says Vaughn.

“You keep saying that, Vaughn, but I don’t know if I ever believe you.” He rests his elbows on the table, back hunched. “I spent a long time thinking about it. I had a lot of resources. I could’ve found you earlier. You’re pretty unique, man. But I thought, you know, that I should give you some space. After everything that happened.”

“I wanted to hear from you so bad.” Vaughn’s barely loud enough to hear himself speaking. “I checked every day. I climbed ECHOcomm towers.”

“And then it was a self-fulfilling prophecy, right?" Rhys keeps going, staring at his folded hands in front of him. "You didn’t contact me, so I figured you didn’t want to. And I let you be because I figured you could find me if you wanted.” He pauses for a beat. “And then I got swept up in… well, in everything. In all of this.” He gestures vaguely at the room around them. "In Atlas. I kept myself busy."

“I was always waiting. Even when I quit climbing towers, I kept my ECHO with me all the time.”

“I’m so fucking sorry, Vaughn.”

Rhys knows this is inadequate - he knows that Vaughn would be justified in up and leaving again. He's accepted that Vaughn probably won't ever want to speak to him again, after this. He tries to comfort himself with the thought of closure.

“I’m still really mad at you,” says Vaughn a few moments later, not sounding angry.

Rhys nods. “Yeah. I’ve earned that.”

Silence prevails for a while. Rhys hiccups quietly, wiping his eyes on his sleeve. Vaughn takes his glasses off and rubs at the bridge of his nose. Someone walks down the hallway and waves at them, and Rhys gives them a half-hearted little smile in return. They keep walking.

It’s too quiet, too still here, but Rhys is frozen. Every muscle in him feels locked in place, so much so that it hurts. His dreams for this had been so grand, so beautiful – it’s been seven years. It’s been too long. It's been a fucking eternity. He'd convinced himself so thoroughly that Vaughn would want him back, and now that's all shattered on the floor. His thoughts glance back to a conversation with Lorelei months ago, where she'd told him to be honest with himself about this. _He's probably hurting as much as you are, man_, she'd told him, a hand on his forearm. _Be careful_.

Ha.

From across the table, he can hear Vaughn's breathing slow. He folds his glasses and places them on the table. There's an awful lot of what Rhys hopes isn't dried blood on his face and across his chest. Odd.

Vaughn gets up and walks around the table to Rhys. Rhys stiffens, half expecting to be punched again, until Vaughn puts his forehead to Rhys’ collarbone. Rhys rests his chin on Vaughn’s shoulder, spreading his legs so Vaughn can stand closer. An old, practiced dance that he can do without even realizing he's doing it.

“I really fucked up,” Rhys says. His voice sounds awful in his ears.

“I know. So did I.” Vaughn has his hands at Rhys' hips. It feels like home.

“Can we start over?”

Vaughn pulls back and looks up. Rhys is wearing this shaky, fragile smile, tear tracks down his cheeks. “Please?” he says. “I wanna try again. I miss you.”

Vaughn steps back, putting out his right hand. “Okay.” His shoulders rise and fall with a deep breath. “Hi. I’m Vaughn.” Rhys laugh-sobs and shakes hands. “I think I’m in love with you. It’s good to meet you.”

“Hi, Vaughn,” says Rhys, barely holding it together. “I’m Rhys. I love you, too.”

Vaughn pulls back and they bump knuckles, absolutely effortless. “I said _in love_, Rhys, just so you know. The kind where I thought about you every single day.” He gives Rhys that deadly serious look that he gives when he needs Rhys to know that he’s the furthest thing from joking around. The green of his eyes glints and it makes Rhys' heart twist.

Rhys’ face does a strange contortion as his voice breaks in his throat. “I know.”

“No, you don’t, man, you really don’t. I tried to stop thinking of you but I couldn’t.” He wipes at his cheek roughly with the back of his hand. “I tried. Man, I tried other people, I tried loneliness, I tried everything. None of it worked.” He looks so vulnerable, in the dim lighting around them, glasses off and eyes red. “It was always you.”

The sentence bounces around the room for a moment like a live grenade, volatile and dangerous. Rhys feels like he's outside of his body, no longer in control of what he's saying.

“I tried to marry Sasha,” blurts Rhys.

“You did _what_?”

Rhys hangs his head. “It was a thing.”

“Yeah, no, obviously, but what happened?” He looks _s__o worried_, which somehow makes Rhys feel even worse.

Rhys can feel the dagger twisting in his chest. Not a lot of people know how this went down, and even fewer know why. “I really liked her. She’s—you know, she’s really smart, and pretty, and could kick my ass six ways to Sunday.” Vaughn nods knowingly, remembering the looks they’d exchanged all the way back then. “And after the vault and everything she found me on Promethea and we sorta… hit it off? She stuck around for a few years. It was nice.” His smile is thin, wistful.

“But it wasn’t. I guess. It wasn’t nice for her. She left a month after I’d bought an engagement ring.” He fidgets with his left ring finger. “She told me she couldn’t keep doing it anymore. That she liked me fine but she didn’t feel _wanted_. She had better things to be doing.”

“I’m sorry,” says Vaughn, unsure of what else to say.

Rhys shakes his head. “It’s alright. It wasn’t… it wasn’t right. I was really busy with Atlas and stuff, and she. Uh. I mean. She’s great, don’t get me wrong, but. She’s not _you_, Vaughn.” The breath Rhys lets out shakes. “I think maybe I was just trying to fill up a hole in my heart.”

Vaughn nods. The anger has faded from his features now, giving way to exhaustion. Rhys imagines he must look exhausted, too.

It feels good to have said it, like the moment after vomiting. His head hurts, and his eyes hurt, and his throat hurts, and his jaw hurts, but it feels good. He puts his arms back around Vaughn without asking, and Vaughn squeezes him back. He feels his pulse slow back down to normal.

They stand there for a while, holding each other close, as Sanctuary III whirrs on around them.


	2. moving forward

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a few dorky notes on this one (all hc's): rhys' shoulder scars resemble lichtenberg figures, and they're a side-effect from a power surge during the installation of his second arm (the one we see in episode 5 of tales, in the goth outfit).  
vaughn drinks whiskey sodas or beer, and can drink almost anyone under the table. rhys is a lightweight who drinks the kind of fruity drinks that cost you at least eight dollars at a bar. **[** thank you to my darling [erin](https://twitter.com/PurloinedKitten) for giving me recommendations on what dumb things rhys would drink, because i can't drink! **]**  
also, i realize i forgot to say: the title of this fic is sort-of stolen from [_lovers in a dangerous time_, originally by bruce cockburn, covered by the barenaked ladies](https://open.spotify.com/track/6G0M1Wsz6zQQoJig92kbkY?si=1KjydnTGTk6K5cIWVbieTQ). it hurts my heart in the best way.

They catch up. It's hard, at first. A lot has changed between them. Vaughn's lost some of his hearing, a side-effect of his friend the explosives expert, and he's a little bit wild now. He wears what feels comfortable, sleeps when he likes, leaves the ship when he gets claustrophobic. Sometimes he talks about his friends on Pandora and his eyes water, and then he shuts down. Rhys doesn't ask him why. He's not sure how to ask.

Rhys has changed, too. He has a new eye now, a cold ice-blue one with a better firewall and carefully repaired wiring. He takes his robotic arm off to sleep now. When Vaughn spies the lightning-strike scars coming away from Rhys' right shoulder joint he doesn't have to ask what happened. He seems to always be talking to somebody. There's always a fire to be put out. He moves between Sanctuary III and Promethea and wherever else he's needed, never in the same place for more than a week.

But there's good things, too. Vaughn seems to be overflowing with self-confidence in a way Rhys has never seen before. He stammers less, shouts less, fidgets less. When he smiles it reaches his eyes, seems to radiate out into his entire body. He's still the Vaughn he remembers meeting in college, but softer, somehow. A little less frantic. It's nice.

And it's easier, now, with Maliwan behind him like a bad dream. Sometimes Rhys even finds the energy to enjoy himself. The muscles in his back feel looser, and the days feel easier when he wakes up. He remembers that there's joy in the small things.

There’s few moments for them to spend together – after all, the galaxy is going to hell in a handbasket and they’re caught in the crossfire. There’s so much work to do, almost all of the time, even though neither of them are heroes. At every hour of the day there's someone to be contacted, someone minor to be dispatched, something to be repaired, or someone to comfort. But sometimes it works.

* * *

Sometimes it’s in Miss Moxxi’s, when the Vault Hunters are off being amazing and saving everything, and everyone on ship has run off to watch them or help. It’s in these times, as everyone holds their breath, that there’s the least for them to do. They hole up in a little booth towards the back, letting the piano music wash over them as they share stories. Vaughn runs his fingers over the delicate paisley patterns on Rhys’ fingertips like he’s trying to memorize them.

“Red, huh?” he asks, idly.

“It’s Atlas colors, man. I have an aesthetic to keep up.” Rhys chuckles, taking a drink. He'd switched from fruity martinis to water a few hours ago. The alcohol has faded to a pleasant hum around the edges of his senses.

“I liked that black arm you had for a while. Or the chrome one? Ooh, that one was _slick_.” Vaughn gently stretches out the fingers on Rhys’ right hand, pressing them against his own. His hand is smaller, but somehow it looks stronger, all callouses and scars against the smooth stainless steel. “This one is cute, though. Kind of a cowboy sort of thing.”

Rhys smiles. “I’ll, uh, I’ll look in to getting some more face plates for it.”

"I'm surprised you don't have one for every day of the week," says Vaughn. He laces his fingers together with Rhys'. Rhys sort of has feeling in his right arm, just enough to inform him when there's danger, but all the same he feels the warmth from Vaughn's palm radiate up his arm and all through his body. He ducks his head, unsure of how to respond to Vaughn's teasing. Their conversation meanders on.

Moxxi lets them be, occasionally dropping off a drink or refreshing a glass of water. Rhys glances at her as she tidies up the other tables, and she winks at him, smiling genuinely. An uncharacteristic kind of softness comes over her face. If she wasn't so soft around the edges she'd look conspiratorial, somehow.

Another patron walks in and Moxxi tactfully shuffles them to the far end of the bar, nearest the slot machines and away from Rhys and Vaughn.

Rhys tips her all the cash he has in his wallet.

* * *

Sometimes it’s on the bridge, so late at night that it’s early and neither of them can sleep. Vaughn leans his head on Rhys’ shoulder, looking out at the vast inky blackness of space. Rhys smooths a thumb over the narrow part of Vaughn’s waist. Sometimes they’re talking, but often they’re not. Often it’s just them and the windows and the sparkling stars out ahead of them.

It keeps Rhys up at night sometimes, the pain of remembering. An empty home, rest without respite, a ring that never meets a finger. Pain and wanting and regret all come back to him when his eyes shut. In those moments he’ll put on his slippers and knock on Vaughn’s door, and Vaughn will let him in to his arms without even asking. He doesn’t need to ask anymore. Vaughn will lead him out and to a window, and as they gaze out at the vast expanse of space Rhys can find some clarity in his thoughts.

"I missed this," says Vaughn, once. It's about four thirty in the morning, and they're orbiting Eden-6. Rhys has a conference call in a half-hour. He's not sure why Vaughn is up.

"Huh?" Rhys snaps back into focus.

"Looking at the stars isn't the same planet-side, you know?" He tilts his head up, looking at an asteroid belt above them. The light cast on him by the window is flattering, softening him at the edges. "Helios sucked, but it had a nice view."

Rhys nods. This had been a tradition back then, too - an alcove near Public Relations had a particularly nice view, and they took to eating lunch there when they could. From there they could see Elpis, with all its strange rocky formations and unreal glowing fissures.

The memory is so distant that it's rimmed with static, now. Vaguely, he remembers watching Vaughn smile at a passing satellite and wondering if he couldn't close that gap between them. He remembers the warmth in his stomach, in his chest, shaky and anxious but mind-blowing. How could he have found someone like this?

He places a kiss on Vaughn's temple. Vaughn squeezes in closer.

* * *

Sometimes it’s on the stairs in Ellie’s workshop, all casual and friendly. It's a nice place to be when the whole ship is up in a frenzy - out of the way enough to be peaceful, but central enough in case they're needed. Vaughn tells a story of that one time on Helios with the experimental robot and Rhys laughs so hard that he shoots coffee out his nose. Ellie grins as she gives them a pile of rags, instructing them to clean up. Rhys’ shirt is ruined. He's got another one. It's fine.

When they’re in her workshop Ellie watches them, out of the corner of her eye, as she works. She’d told Rhys when he’d come aboard that she wasn’t sure about him. Rhys had shrugged and laughed, trying to play it off as a joke, and Ellie had leveled him with a cold stare.

“Don’t much trust you, Rhys. Vaughn told me a lot about you.” Rhys had slunk out of the workshop and back to his room without an argument.

It's been a few months, though, and Ellie has warmed up by degrees. Vaughn had informed him a week after he'd come aboard that he and Ellie are close. "She helped me figure a lot of things out," he'd said, smiling warmly. "She's really wonderful."

Rhys noticed that Vaughn didn't mention the things he'd said that made Ellie dislike him so strongly, but didn't say anything of it. He could figure that out for himself.

But now when Rhys comes around Ellie smiles at him, calls him _sugar_, asks him how things are. They talk shop sometimes, comparing technological specs and swapping tips on weapons manufacturing. She's deadly smart, really. Rhys counts himself lucky for somehow getting himself on her good side. When she claps him on the shoulder it sort of seems like she's trying to kill him with the force of it, though, but he doesn't think she means badly by it.

A little pang of jealousy tugs at his heart as she calls Vaughn _sexy_ that first time. That is, it hurts until Vaughn puts an arm around his waist and grins at him. "You think so too, Rhys?" He waggles his eyebrows in a ridiculous, adorable way.

Rhys pus on his best sly smile. "I dunno if I'd call you a toothpick with those guns of yours, but yeah." Vaughn beams up at him, color dusting his cheekbones. Ellie laughs uproariously.

* * *

Sometimes it’s stolen in back storage rooms and hallways, the parts of the ship where nobody goes. It’s not often, but sometimes Rhys finds himself backed up against a locked metal door and finds he doesn’t mind at all, even when Vaughn shushes him.

“Shit, Vaughn, come on, we gotta – _nngh_,” tries Rhys, with Vaughn right at his throat. This isn't something they ever got to do, and even though it's a little juvenile for men in their thirties to be making out like teenagers in back hallways, Rhys just rolls with it.

“Makin’ up for lost time,” says Vaughn, before taking Rhys’ earlobe between his teeth and tugging gently, earning him a breathless gasp. Has that always been a thing? Has Vaughn always known that's a thing? "You want me to stop?" His voice is low, almost gravelly, and Rhys swears he can hear it reverberating in his bones.

“No, I – _oh_ – don't stop, but I can’t get you naked out here.” He catches his breath as Vaughn plants a kiss behind his earlobe. "Should go somewhere else." _This is ridiculous_, he thinks in the back of his mind - he's not even undressed and he's still having trouble stringing thoughts together.

_This is awesome._

Vaughn pulls back and eyes Rhys, contemplating. His pupils are blown wide and dark. “Fair point.” Grinning, he drags Rhys off by the necktie.

Rhys finds himself quite grateful that the door to his room has a biometric lock.

* * *

Sometimes it's in Vaughn's room. It's rare that they both have enough time to really settle down together, but when they do they relish it. They set up a little nest of pillows in the too-small alcove bed and curl up together, Vaughn slotted into the space between Rhys' arms like he was made to live there. This time, Rhys has his shirt off, and Vaughn is tracing the lightning-strike patterns across his chest with a finger. Rhys is drifting in that hazy in-between space where he's almost asleep, but too happy to want to miss anything. He thinks it's probably past midnight, but he's lost track of time.

He feels Vaughn's lips ghost over his collarbone, and then along his jaw. Vaughn's breath tickles his cheek. When he cracks an eye open, Vaughn is smiling at him.

"Hey, bro," he says, putting a finger under Vaughn's chin and tilting it so that they're looking eye-to-eye.

"Hey." Vaughn leans in for a kiss, indulgently pulling at Rhys' bottom lip. They'd stopped fooling around a while ago, and Rhys definitely doesn't have the energy in him for another go-round, but Vaughn's sharp canines against his lip send goosebumps up the back of his neck. He leans his head back, letting it _thunk_ gently on the wall behind him.

"You're so hot and it's _so_ unfair," he says, laughing softly. "Cut it out."

"Hmmmmm," Vaughn contemplates, moving down to kiss Rhys' sternum. "Nah."

"Vaughn, babe, honey," says Rhys, and Vaughn brings his head back up to look him in the eye. He's blushing. "You're the best." Rhys' words slur together in his mouth a little bit. He doesn't remember how long he's been awake for.

Vaughn looks away, shrugging. "Shut up."

"No!"

They bicker aimlessly, stupidly. There's no anger it, only play and affection and adoration. It's a game they've played for a long time. Eventually, Rhys yawns and Vaughn rubs at his eyes.

"Agree to disagree?" says Vaughn. "Tired." His eyes are sparkling in the dim lighting. Rhys thinks they're the most gorgeous fucking thing in the world.

Rhys nods. His eyes slide closed, eyelids leaden. The last thing he remembers feeling before he drifts off is Vaughn getting comfortable, an ear over his heartbeat.

* * *

Sometimes it’s in the shared kitchen, early in the morning. Vaughn stumbles in, looking disheveled, and Rhys chides him gently for staying up so late.

“Bandits don’t have bedtimes, man,” says Vaughn, pulling a mug out of a cabinet. He sounds uncharacteristically grouchy. Rhys snorts, rolling his eyes and grinning, and pops a bagel in the toaster. Rhys takes the mug from him.

Vaughn hops up onto the counter and sits there, blinking the sleep out of his eyes as he flips through his ECHO. Rhys pours him a cup of coffee (a little bit of cream) and hands it to him. Vaughn kisses the bridge of his nose by way of a _thank you_. They eat together in silence, Vaughn with a bowl of cereal and Rhys with a bagel. It's the comfortable kind of silence, the kind that it took Rhys well into his late twenties to understand, the kind that he doesn't need to fill. It's the kind of peace that he doesn't find often down in Atlas Headquarters, or much of anywhere, really. Not anymore.

Somewhere down the hallway, someone shouts at someone else, tells them to get moving. Rhys checks his watch out of habit.

By the time Vaughn is done eating his cereal, Rhys is getting ready to leave. There's not much time to hang out - Rhys has a meeting down on Promethea that's likely to go all day, and Vaughn's been asked to head over to Eden-6 and give a hand taking out a COV settlement. It's bound to be a long day. But as Rhys bumps knuckles with Vaughn, he thinks it might be alright.


	3. a long time coming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **[** this one has some definite bl3 spoilers! they're not endgame spoilers but they are spoilers of some fairly major plot points, up through and including the beginning of chapter 11 (hammerlocked). do with this what you will! **]**  
for extra emotions, read this while listening to [_did i say that out loud?_](https://open.spotify.com/track/46pttg2YWTYZFvfBTKFpeW?si=PHKbAy-zQDq4bywHHvaUeg) !

He’s thought about it sometimes. Toyed with the idea, fantasized about it. He got close a few times, too, usually while he was under the influence of something (alcohol or adrenaline or really good sex). But it hadn’t panned out.

(It hadn’t panned out with Sasha, either, something he reminds himself of when he’s getting _really close to it_.)

There's a lot that could go wrong. Vaughn could say no, which is the most obvious answer. Vaughn could say a lot of variations of _no_ \- like _no, Rhys, I don't feel that way about you_, or _no, and also never speak to me again_ or _no, and actually, I was just about to break up with you_. The logical part of his brain knows this isn't likely, of course. It's been six months since that day where Rhys got punched in the jaw, and it's been... nice. It's been comfortable. They're exhausted constantly, sure, and the work never seems to end, but there's a casual kind of closeness that they've developed. People on-ship have remarked that they're a matched set, that it's rare to see one without the other. It sends a fuzzy warmth up Rhys' spine.

And he's thirty-four now (almost thirty-five). It's the time in life that most people get serious about settling down. He'd thought he was pretty settled until everything had happened, really, but one thing had led to another, and even though the vault on Promethea is long since opened he's still wrapped up in all of this. It's what he's supposed to do, he thinks, and as a still-living vault hunter it seems he's fairly qualified for it, even on the days when his bones ache.

It's not as bad with Vaughn here, though. It's a lot easier to be juggling three separate lives with someone to hold your hand over coffee and make shitty jokes and bump knuckles with you when you need just that _little bit_ of encouragement.

But he can't do this forever. He won't, in fact, be doing this forever, because they're hot on the trail of solving this mess and, well, he's getting too old for this. Being an accidental vault hunter was quite enough excitement for one lifetime.

He doesn't know what Vaughn's plans are, for _after this_. He's not really sure if Vaughn makes plans anymore - it seems to run counter to the easy-does-it bandit lifestyle that he's taken so easily to. The frantic, anxious nature of the Hyperion accountant has fallen away from him, and Rhys can't stand the idea of being the one to bring all of that hurt back.

The reasonable part of his brain knows he could just _ask_. He's got plenty of money, and plenty of room. Hell, he could afford to give Vaughn a whole floor to himself if that's what he wants. He can't imagine the bandit lifestyle is financially comfortable, and if nothing else that's something he has in spades right now, especially with Maliwan out of the picture.

But the shaky, self-conscious part of his brain worries that he's asking too much. He worries that this is just be like before, when they'd fooled around and thrown around big words with big implications, and then it had all fizzled when the action ended. That he might just be tying Vaughn down, holding him back from the life he was always meant to lead.

He worries that he's not ready for that, the emptiness and loneliness of not having the other half of his brain right next to him. His heart aches when he thinks of waking up again in a place where Vaughn isn't.

* * *

At about month six-and-a-half Vaughn gets called down to Pandora for a week to stabilize things at the Sun Smashers camp, and then two days later Rhys gets dragged down to Promethea. His board of executives is all in a tizzy about what direction to go now that Maliwan is no longer a threat, and since they can't seem to get their shit together while the _entire galactic neighborhood_ is at risk, Rhys clears his schedule for a while. Begrudgingly.

It takes about a day for his chest to start aching with loneliness. It's happened every time they've had to separate, but somehow this time is worse - he's not sure when he's going to be done here, and Vaughn keeps staying somewhere outside the range of reliable ECHOnet connection. And it's not that he's worried if Vaughn is okay. He's lived on Pandora for close to a decade, and if anyone can handle himself there, it's him.

But it feels like there's a hole in his heart, somehow, like there's a gap in the left side in his armor. He sends Vaughn seven messages while he's sitting in a board meeting, and none of them reach him. His skin feels wrong. He tries to shower it off but it lingers long after he climbs into bed, keeping him awake.

He lasts about four days before he feels like he's about to shatter. He's received a handful of messages from Vaughn, enough to know that he's alive and intact and having a hell of a time getting things situated back home. In the back of his mind he feels like he ought to lay off, but he keeps sending messages anyway, and the jolt in his stomach when they all bounce back as unsent never gets better. He can't remember what he used to do when the loneliness crept up on him. It feels like it's been ages since this was his entire life, the six elevator floors and long strips of hallway between his office and his apartment.

So Rhys does the thing he usually does when he has no idea what to do - he calls Lorelei up.

Lorelei is a lot of things. Terrifyingly capable, and charming, and intelligent, and brash, and maybe Rhys' best friend. He's not entirely sure how that works, considering he's the one who signs her paychecks, but she seems willing to both talk business with him and to swap stories about their personal lives. (And to generally keep him from dissolving into a useless puddle of stress and self-loathing. Which she's very good at, but can't write on her resumé.)

"What, talks with the big-wigs fall through again?" she asks as she walks into his office. Her tone is light and playful, as she often is with him. She looks a little different now than she did when the war was still on - a little more well-rested, a little lighter in her footfalls. He wonders if he pays her enough to deal with all this bullshit.

"Lorelei, have you ever been in love?" Right to the point. Might as well.

She pauses. "Is this an on-the-clock or an off-the-clock question?"

"Off-the-clock. But I'll pay you for your time." He knows it's ridiculous to pay his friend to talk to him, but whatever. He's got the payroll to spare.

She leans against the window next to his desk. The light from outside makes her face almost impossible to read. "Yeah, I have. Long time ago. Why?"

"It's. It's, uh." He hates this, the cold corporate stuffiness of his office. He wishes he were somewhere else. "So, if, theoretically, you wanted someone to marry you, and you maybe weren't entirely sure how they felt, what would you do? Theoretically. For a friend."

Her brows furrow. "Uh-huh. Well. Are you - sorry, is _your friend_ in a relationship with this person?" Rhys knows she can see through his sort-of-lie, but he's grateful that she's playing along for his sake.

"Yeah, uh, yes? Sort of. It's kind of complicated, but, uh. They've, you know, been at it a while." He swallows thickly. "T-they've known each other a long time."

Lorelei stands up straight, looking entirely un-amused. "They either are or they aren't, mate, which is it?" Her arms are folded across her chest.

Rhys rubs at his eye with his palm. "Uh, then they are. I guess."

Lorelei stares out the window opposite her for a minute. "I think your friend should be honest. No use in tryin'a hide it, right? It's gonna come up one way or another. Might as well get out front of it."

Nodding, Rhys stares at his hands folded on the desk. His pause lingers to the point of awkwardness. "Thanks, Lorelei. I'll, uh, I'll tell my friend. I won't keep you any longer."

Lorelei claps him on the shoulder. "You're a good man, Rhys. It'll be alright." Rhys nods, feeling nausea writhe in his gut.

When she leaves, he's alone again.

* * *

Rhys has done a lot of scary things in his life, both the _fuck-you adrenaline-rush_ kind of scary and the _I'm-going-to-die_ kind of scary. It seems silly, in perspective, that this whole situation makes Rhys so scared he can't think straight. He thinks maybe he could get away with leaving it at nothing, waiting for Vaughn to maybe bring it up, or for the whole thing to dissolve into nothing again. Waiting is a legitimate solution to a lot of problems.

But every morning on Promethea, when he wakes up again to an empty apartment, he thinks that might not be his best move, insecurity be damned. This isn't the way he wants to spend the rest of his life.

* * *

It's almost a month before Rhys is dialing Sanctuary III into a fast travel again. In that time he's fired three executives and two department heads, gotten in a screaming match with no fewer than four employees who disagree with his ideas about where the company is going, and slept way too little. In the last week, Vaughn has kept him going, his voice level and even over the phone as Rhys had explained for the fifth time in a week why it's unacceptable to form an intergalactic weapons manufacturing monopoly.

"You're doing a good job," Vaughn had said. "You're taking care of these people, even if they don't see it. I'm really proud of you."

Rhys had hung up soon after because he'd felt like he was going to cry.

* * *

When his body re-assembles on the ship Vaughn is there to meet him with a spine-snapping hug. Rhys is caught up on all the drama on-ship as he's walked to his room with a hand at the small of his back. Everyone's off saving something-or-other on Eden-6, so the halls are pretty quiet. Vaughn estimates they won't be back for a couple of days yet.

They get back to Rhys' room and he's barely got his bag on the ground before he's pulling Vaughn up for a kiss by the collar. Vaughn laughs into it, but he seems pretty eager to reciprocate, too. By the time Rhys realizes what's happening, he's got a hand wound around his necktie and he's being shoved backwards to his bed.

"God, I missed you," he sighs. Vaughn surges forward, groaning something into his lips that might be "I missed you, too".

* * *

By the time they're quite thoroughly done, Vaughn's stomach is growling. Rhys pulls on a shirt that isn't wrinkled to hell as Vaughn straightens out his hair. The kitchen is unoccupied, so they take it over, as Vaughn explains the complicated spider webs of hatred that made his debacle with the Sun Smashers so difficult to deal with. It's hard, as it turns out, to run a gang of bandits when everyone has a history with everyone else, and everyone _also_ has a gun.

Rhys isn’t a great cook, but he finds that what he can put together in the little shoebox kitchen tastes better when it’s shared. The plates they’re eating off of don’t match.

Vaughn is telling old stories from college, so easily, like nothing had ever changed in their intervening years. He’s got that smile that he wears when he’s all the way relaxed, a little lazy, and his eyes are soft. There’s so much softness in him. Rhys can feel the butterflies in his stomach, like he’s twenty again. Like no time has passed at all.

It all comes back in one big surge. Being twenty-one and getting drunk together, and then being twenty-two and graduating. Moving onto Helios together, setting up their first apartments, the shame and agony and joy of their first jobs in that corporate hellscape. And the one person who kept him from running away, from hopping on the first flight back home, from launching his boss' computer out an airlock. The one person he could count on, all those years, to be a friendly face, to actually _give a shit_ about how his day went. The one person he had. The one person he _has_, right now, sitting across from him on a rickety barstool in a half-empty ship.

“Marry me,” says Rhys, before he realizes it’s come out of his mouth. Vaughn’s fork pauses below his chin.

“Uh,” he says. The rims of his ears are red, and it’s seeping down into his cheeks.

Rhys swallows hard. “Marry me." His voice sounds deafening in his own ears but he keeps going. "Shit, Vaughn, I-I don’t even have a ring or anything but I,” he takes a steadying breath, setting his glass down. His hand shakes. “I can’t _stand_ the thought of not spending the rest of my life with you. I tried it. It was awful.” He can feel his heart rattling his ribs with every beat. Vaughn is staring at him. He feels under-dressed.

Vaughn shakes his head, which momentarily sends Rhys into an all-out panic. “No, yes, no, of course dude. Yes, I want to marry you. I’ve been trying to figure out how to ask you that, you asshole.” He laughs, all softness and no bite. “You beat me to the punch.”

Rhys puts his face in his hands for a moment, trying to steel himself and coming up short. His brain is pulling in twenty different directions and he can't find a path to follow. “I don’t know your ring size, I’m sorry.” His mind fixates on the tangible. _Hand, ring, rings plural._

Vaughn laughs, this shaky, tearful little thing. “I can’t even remember the last time I wore a ring, man, you’re good.” He pulls Rhys’ left hand away from his face and holds it with both of his own. His hands are calloused in a grounding sort of way.

The next few minutes are a blur. Rhys thinks he hears someone walk by as he gathers Vaughn up into his arms, breathing in the dust in his hair. It doesn’t matter. He couldn’t care less if he tried.

* * *

When they head to bed that night (in Vaughn's room, because it's absolutely unconscionable for them to spend a night apart again), Rhys brings it up.

"So, uh. You said you thought about asking?" He fidgets with the drawstring of his sweatpants.

Vaughn smiles at him warmly, sending electricity surging all throughout his chest. "It's not a big event or anything, man. I just kinda knew I wanted to be with you forever. Didn't wanna come on too strong when we were, like, twenty-three, though. So I didn't." Blush colors his cheeks as he glances away. "Didn't know how to say it then anyway."

They fall asleep hours later, tangled up together in their too-small alcove bed. Vaughn has wrung himself dry of stories, of the great and the terrible and the days where he wanted _so much_ and _so badly._ Rhys has listened, with the intensity of a man so head over heels that he's given up on finding the right way up again.

It feels right. Finally, it feels right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you to my darling partner [kieren](https://twitter.com/telperinquars) for helping me write myself out of a hole on this chapter. i love you!  
next chapter will take longer than these last two have, because i have the least of it written and i have to do some research for it.


	4. finale

Rhys waits until the next morning to call Lorelei, and he goes down to Promethea to do so. Vaughn had been pulled off on Crimson Raiders business almost as soon as they'd stumbled out of bed. They'd parted with a kiss, just a chaste little thing, and the squeeze of their hands between them.

Rhys calls Lorelei up to his office, as he has many times before. He's perched on the edge of his desk, fidgeting. This isn’t the place he wants to do this, but he figures Lorelei would get worried if he had her come up to Sanctuary or something. That, and she’s got plenty of work to do.

The elevator _dings_ softly, and then Lorelei is walking down the hallway. "What's going on, boss?"

"So, you know how you said I should be honest?" he starts, leaning sideways on one hand. "It was, uh. It was good advice. And I was."

"Sorry, what?"

Rhys grins. "I talked to Vaughn."

Lorelei cocks her head to one side. There's the slightest glimmer in her eyes.

"He said yes."

Before Lorelei hugs him, she punches him in the bicep, just hard enough to sting. He laughs into her shoulder. His chest feels so much lighter than it did this time yesterday. He feels like he might float away if something doesn't tether him down.

"I'm so proud of you, you big idiot," she says, holding him at arms length now. "I told you!"

He nods, a little sheepish. "You did."

"So, when's the big day? Ohh, I haven't been to a wedding in _ages_." She pulls her ECHO out and brings up a page. "Let's see, what do we need, flowers? Rings? Clothes? Booze?" She's making a checklist.

Rhys just grins at her so hard that his face hurts. "God, Lorelei, you're the fucking best."

* * *

Wedding planning, as it turns out, is exhausting. Even though they're just planning a little thing, there's still schedules to coordinate and clothes to buy and people to invite. Vaughn gets a suit tailored, surprising everyone.

"I'll only be wearing it for, what, a couple of hours?" he shrugs. "Figure I oughtta dress up for you."

Rhys grins and makes him promise he won't get blood on himself. Vaughn laughs so hard he doubles over, but won't say either way. “It’s my thing now, man. Get used to it.”

It's a scary kind of new territory, but it feels right. Rhys finds a single weekend in a month and a half where he can set aside the entire day, and everyone vows to make it work. People he had no idea even had an investment in them start approaching him, asking to come along or to be involved in some way. By the end of the month Lilith is officiating, Moxxi is providing the reception, and the bridge is booked out for them. Rhys sends out a handful of invitations, with little confidence they'll be acted upon. It’s just hope.

* * *

Rhys is flipping through wedding ring listings on the ECHOnet on the steps of Ellie's workshop when she smacks his hand. His palm display goes dark.

"Uh-uh, Sugar, I gotcha covered," she says, hand on her hip. He shoots her a confused look.

"Rings. I'm workin' on 'em already. You wanna come see?"

Rhys is led, dumbfounded, to a far corner of Ellie's workshop, where she's got a rudimentary jeweler's bench set up. She won't say how she knows their ring sizes, or how she knows jewelry-making, or why she's insisted upon being so centrally involved in this.

"This one's yours," she says of a silver ring, still a little bit blocky in shape, with a red enamel line going through the center. Vaughn's, by contrast, is bright, shining gold, and she shows him a bright red gemstone she's going to mount in it once she's ready. It glitters when it catches the light just so, like starlight. They’re better than anything he ever could have come up with.

Rhys just cough-sobs and hugs her. He can't find the words to say. They're perfect. It's all so perfect.

* * *

The ceremony is on the bridge of Sanctuary III. They’d planned on just the little thing, but everyone shows up anyway, and the place is jam-packed out to the walls. The word, it seems, has spread through the grapevine, and even across planets. There’s folks there that Rhys has just seen in passing, smiling and cheering them on. He hears someone turning someone else away at the door.

Lilith had insisted on wearing her best outfit for the occasion, which is mostly just a vest with less blood on it. She stands at the helm, holding an old leather-bound journal, smiling.

The wedding is chaos, but the beautiful, amazing kind that only happens when a place is full of love. Lorelei is Rhys’ best man, and she looks amazing all done up in clothes that are clean and not torn. She's wearing a tuxedo, in fact, in black with a slick red silk tie. Ellie wears a long, white dress as Vaughn’s best lady (not, she says, maid of honor: she’s not here for honor, she’s here to be the best), and if she didn’t look so gorgeous and overflowing with joy it might be an issue.

Rhys had promised himself in the mirror that morning that he absolutely wouldn’t cry, but that goes out the window once Vaughn stands to face him and takes both of his hands in his own. He feels the tears running down his cheeks before he can even do anything about it.

Vaughn takes a deep breath and starts speaking. “Rhys, I… I can barely believe this is happening.” He goes to start again, but he's interrupted.

There’s the sound of rapid footsteps coming down the hallway towards them, and then shouting.

“Hey, sorry,” comes the voice down the hallway, clear and bright. “Uh—shit.”

The whole room turns around in unison. Rhys feels his jaw drop.

“What the hell are you _wearing_?”

“Your invitation was pretty fucking vague, Rhys!”

Rhys grins because he has no idea what else to do. “You get over here right now.”

The tension in the air breaks as Fiona walks up and wraps her arms around both of them, squeezing hard. Rhys thinks he might be crying again, but he’s not sure. It's _Fiona_, and the world is spinning so fast he thinks he might faint.

He’d sent out the invitations on a prayer, not even sure if they were headed to the right _planet_, let alone to anyone who might be interested in seeing him again. This was once in a lifetime, he'd figured, and they were family. Even if he'd fucked it up pretty royally in the middle.

When they break away another familiar voice pipes up from the back of the room. “So, what did we miss?”

Rhys cranes his head around Fiona’s and immediately feels his stomach drop. “Sasha.”

She smiles at him, so soft and so kind, in the way that he definitely doesn’t deserve. “Hi, Rhys. Thanks for the invitation.”

“Why are you here?” He can feel the knot in his throat tightening. Threatening to strangle him.

“What, you think I’d miss an opportunity to see you cry like an idiot?” She’s walking down towards them now, and Vaughn is glancing between her and Rhys nervously.

“No, but I – I didn’t expect to see you.”

Fiona has broken away and now Sasha is right in front of him, for the first time in four years. “I’m happy for you.” Sasha turns to face Vaughn and claps a hand on his shoulder. “And you, too, Vaughn. Nice beard.”

“Thanks?”

“I’m… I’m really sorry, Sasha." There's so much more to say, to atone for, but not here. He can't start that talk right now.

Sasha doesn’t answer. Instead, she wraps Rhys up into a bone-crushing hug.

“It wasn’t right. It’s okay,” she says, into the fabric of his jacket, and if he wasn’t crying before he’s _definitely_ crying now. “I’m glad I’m here.”

Rhys is so overwhelmed that he can’t even respond – he’s only sort of aware of Vaughn’s hand on his shoulder, rubbing arcs back and forth with his thumb. He holds on with all his might until Sasha breaks away, an eternity later.

“Let’s just start over, then?” adds Lilith, helpfully, as everyone breaks away and straightens themselves out. Sasha and Fiona shuffle into a cleared spot in the front of the crowd. Lorelei produces a handkerchief from who knows where and hands it to Rhys. He cleans himself up and takes a few steadying breaths.

“Okay, uh, yeah. So. This is awesome. This is the best day maybe ever,” starts Vaughn over again. “I definitely can’t believe this is happening. I, uh, I thought about this. For a long time. For _so long_. But we were busy, and I had a lot of times where I _almost_ asked you, but I didn’t. I’m glad you did.” He turns slightly to face the gathered crowd. “I need you all to know that _this guy_ proposed without a ring or anything. Over dinner. Wasn’t even a date.” A few groans of “of course!” and “really?” erupt through the crowd as Rhys’ face turns red. Vaughn's smile up at him is warm and comforting. A shelter in a storm.

“But I don’t care about a ring. I don’t care about any of that. Hell, we could do this out in the desert somewhere and I’d be okay with it. I just want to get to the part where I get to spend the rest of my life with you, Rhys.” He breathes out a little laugh. "I've wanted that for such a long time."

There's a pause as Rhys flounders. “I, uh, shit, okay, your vows are _way better_ than mine.” He laughs nervously. “Vaughn, you are. The most amazing person. When I met you, uh… shit, I had this…” Rhys pauses for a moment, counting on his fingers. “Wow, fourteen years ago! Fourteen years ago, that's a long time. I had no idea what was going to happen. But I knew you were special. I knew I had to hang on to you, like, right from the beginning. I think that’s probably the smartest thing I ever did.

"I had no idea we would get here. I had no idea any of what's happened would happen, _obviously_, but especially not this." He gestures between them with one hand, the other still gripping Vaughn's like a life-line. "But it was worth it. It was all worth it, if it means this gets to happen today. I'd do it all again if I had to." He glances at Lilith, thrumming with impatience.

"Okay, can we do the marriage part? I wanna be married. Like, _so bad_."

The whole crowd bursts into laughter, and Lilith, as the ship's officiant, gets the show on the road. It's all sort of a blur, exchanging rings and saying things on cue and then they're kissing. Oh, god, they're kissing, and it's the best every time. The din of the gathered crowd dies out in their ears as the rest of the world melts away.

* * *

The windows overlooking the rear of the ship have a great view of Elpis right now, and Sasha’s busy pointing out all the fault lines to Fiona.

The ceremony has long since concluded, and the gathering has dispersed to all the corners of Sanctuary III. Lorelei sits on one of the low bench seats against the window, jacket off, swirling a glass of wine. It’s just the six of them here, enjoying the after-midnight stillness, resting their sore feet and throats and eyes. Ellie’s got her dress hiked up to her knees and she’s animatedly telling a story about that one time, in her workshop on Pandora, with the hydraulic automobile lift.

“No, no, nope!” says Vaughn, holding his hands up and laughing. He’s got his jacket off and his shirt unbuttoned, which is a hell of a lot more clothing than Rhys expected of him. “You can’t tell this one, El. Legally, you can’t tell this one. I’ll _die_, and then I’ll… I’ll have _died on my wedding night_, without even having sex with my super-hot husband. You can’t do it.”

Ellie laughs, but she acquiesces, instead telling the story of the time with the rakk nest, which is still embarrassing but acceptably so. Vaughn leans his head back against the window, but he’s grinning. Moreso when Rhys grabs his hand and squeezes it, running a thumb along his knuckles.

Rhys speaks up during a lull in the conversation a few minutes later.

“Hey, so, thank you all,” he says, sitting up a little bit. “This is so, so nice. It’s good to, um. To be a family again.”

Fiona’s sitting down again, and she bumps Rhys’ shoulder with her own. “I missed you. You dumbass.” Across the bank of seating, Lorelei and Ellie nod in agreement, exchanging a knowing glance. They're getting on like a house fire, which Rhys thinks he ought to be concerned about.

“It’s good to be back,” says Sasha. She’s smiling really softly again, leaning against Fiona’s shoulder.

It’s not for another half-hour or so that Vaughn is dragging Rhys away. He’s grinning and saying something about “finally” that Rhys can’t really make out through the haze of adrenaline. Fiona sees them off with the promise that they’ll talk over breakfast tomorrow.

_Tomorrow_, he thinks. _What a nice thought_.

* * *

It's even later, now, and the haze of the alcohol has worn off. It's just them, in Vaughn's room, enjoying the afterglow. The time is approximately way-too-late-at-night, but who cares. Neither of them have plans tomorrow, and the whole ship knows to give them space.

And they just got _married_. Wow. The fact keeps hitting Rhys like a freight train, right in the gut.

"You've finally made an honest man of me, Rhys," says Vaughn, breaking the silence. Rhys bubbles over with laughter.

"If I'd have known it'd be that great, I would've done it fourteen years ago."

Vaughn laces their fingers together and puts them flat over Rhys' sternum. "Better late than never, huh?"

Rhys feels quiet overtake his brain for the first time in a long time. "Yeah," he says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this took so long! thanks for hanging in there.

**Author's Note:**

> so it's been confirmed that while you can get rhys and vaughn to each mention the other through idle lines, they don't interact in-game, and i just think that's _unacceptable_. i refuse to believe that they're both involved in this huge bonkers mess and don't run into each-other!  
i wanted to thank some pals for listening to me and encouraging me as i went absolutely fucking feral over these two dinguses: [mof](https://twitter.com/ironbearmech), and [rhysie](https://twitter.com/rhysymmetra), and [kieren](https://twitter.com/telperinquars), and [kaz](https://twitter.com/AngstyRhys), and also the assorted people in the borderlands servers i'm in! i love you guys.  
finally, i wanted to port you towards my partner kieren's [fabulous gayperion playlist **[** link opens on spotify **]**](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3y1YEIe7PRdivbMJfKr0au?si=t2WeDp90TyehJ4RLOj5LHA), which inspired a lot of this fic. it is so sappy. i love it so much.  
i'm on [twitter](https://twitter.com/ceruleanspruce) if you wanna come say hi!


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